


Day #11: Goosebumps

by imaginationandheartbreak (alexgrey)



Series: 30 Days of Writing for Ships: Mattex [9]
Category: Doctor Who RPF
Genre: 30 days of writing for ships, F/M, Macbeth - Freeform, Mattex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-06-11
Updated: 2014-06-11
Packaged: 2018-02-04 08:50:39
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 610
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1773100
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/alexgrey/pseuds/imaginationandheartbreak
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It’s not a letter, it’s a poem.  For me?  She scans that first page quickly, her heart beginning to race… <i>Alex, unrequited, cunt, falling, lips, cock… </i>and hurriedly shuffles the sheets as she stands: <i>…yours, night, fucking, always, mine…</i>  on and on.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Day #11: Goosebumps

**Author's Note:**

> Sorry to be so late, everyone! After yesterday’s comments I thought I would trash my other goosebumps idea and use ‘goosebumps’ to make a part 2 for yesterday's ficlet. I didn’t have a lot of time to squeeze in fic writing today, so this is a very sketchy gesture. But here it is. YES I will continue this story in another prompt.

 Alex grins broadly as she feels the heavy weight of the roses in her arms, her eyes following a young woman’s pointing finger to a slim figure half-illuminated by candlelight by the far wall. And she realizes with a burst of warmth that it’s Matt. He’s here. She lets out a breath. The flowers are from Matt Smith. He is far enough away that she doesn’t want to shout, opting instead to mouth an exaggerated ‘Oh. My. God’ in his direction before her eyes fix on the gorgeous gold envelope. He’d gone all out. And, oh, she’d _missed_ him, she realized – always so thoughtful… it was hard, sometimes, to keep up friendships in the business, something she truly regretted, everyone always moving like so many chess pieces… though her own career was less like a calculated game of chess, she supposed, than a transat game of pinball. Matt. Who is she kidding? She can’t wait to open the envelope – would it say ‘love Matt?” or ‘break a leg?’ She feels a strong hand at the edge of her waist, now, firmly hinting at her hips. Right – Robert. Her date. _Why are my hands shaking?_

Cradling the huge bouquet with considerable difficulty in her left elbow she opts to tear the envelop with her right hand, almost too eagerly, and looks up to catch Matt’s eye and is surprised, really, that he’s watching her so intently instead of coming over.

 

It’s not a simple card. It’s two – no, three - pages of his handwriting, the paper thick and expensive and obviously worried-over in her hand. There’s an inky thumbprint – bless – near the top and the letter itself has been folded and unfolded. She looks up from the pages and Matt is so impossibly still now she freezes on that spot herself, too, mirroring him for just a moment, before bending to place that garden of roses gently on the floor and move her ass from Robert’s fingers. She starts to read while she’s still bent at the knee. It’s not a letter, it’s a _poem_. _For me?_ She scans that first page quickly, her heart beginning to race… _Alex, unrequited, cunt, falling, lips, cock…_ and hurriedly shuffles the sheets as she stands: … _yours, night, fucking, always, mine…_ on and on.

_What?_

 

She grips the pages with both hands now and lets out a tiny sound somewhere between longing and _oh fuck_ as a shudder moves along her spine and she schools her expression. She’s at her own opening night party. She promised to chat with Anne Hearst before dinner. People are counting on her. Ken. _Breathe, Alex_. “Bad news, love?” It’s Robert, always the gentleman, rubbing a concerned hand up and down her back. _Go away, Robert._

She tries to start again, to pin the words to the page. She can’t risk looking up, not yet. She hears the words on that first page in Matt’s voice now, young, low, greedy:

 

_Falling into your mouth,_   
_My tongue, unrequited; arrow to your heart_   
_Listen_   
_How you crushed that cage of bone_   
_That boy_   
_Sliced open, flames leaping,_   
_How you came burning up my whole world_   
_That day we met_   
_Falling into your eyes,_   
_Watch, Alex, sink into me,_   
_my cock deep in your ass_   
_Hand on your clit, screaming all the words_   
_my lips your fucking servants_   
_drawing blood_   
_you were always the only alphabet I wanted_   
_to own_   
_hunger beyond poetry_   
_Moan for you, break for you_   
_Inside you as I write this_   
_feel you reading me_   
_Feel me fucking you_   
_My cock in your cunt_   
_Forever_   
_Falling_

 

Goosebumps. Oh, _Matt._ Yes. YES. She looks up to say it. But he’s gone.


End file.
